


Soujorn

by kerket



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M, Odyssey AU, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 22:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerket/pseuds/kerket
Summary: After the Gentle Reminder disappears from the radar and the Fractal Shear ceases to respond to the Locus Armada, Admiral [Name] is sent to discover the truth that befell on Ionan. The tragedy she discovers gives her knowledge on a coup de grâce on the Emperor of the Demaxian Empire. Knowing it is likely too late to save her Emperor, [Name] will do whatever it takes to make sure the Empire does not fall into corrupted hands.





	Soujorn

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please read [The Lure](https://universe.leagueoflegends.com/en_US/story/the-lure/) before reading this story. Not only is it one great piece of literature, but it will also provide insight as to where this story begins and what some details are talking about. 
> 
> And yes, there will likely be Star Wars references scattered throughout the story.

The hallways are unusually empty. Maybe it is because [Name] has never seen them when the moons are fully above in the dark sky, or maybe it is because for once in her life, it matters that they are. She hopes it is the latter, and that Fate has smiled upon her.

She tries to not come to the Capital often; now regrettably so as she attempts to not become lost in the twists and turns that the hallways follow. The very expensive tastes and gaudy decorations tended to be too excessive to the simplicity she preferred.

If [Name] cared enough to look at the walls as she quickly walks down the corridor, she would see elegant paintings of previous rulers and gorgeous sceneries. Instead, she counted the doorways that she passed, marking each to find her destination. As she approaches a more extravagant doorframe, she adjusts the collar of her simple navy blue uniform jacket and pulls the sleeves to her wrists. She brushes down her pant legs and straightens her shoulders. The white and gold highlights of her military garb are straightened and neat. The flair that denotes her rank pronounced proudly over her breast.

Her fingers gloss over an ornate silver plate against her right eye as she brushes strands of [H/C] hair out of her face, slightly annoyed that her rushed pace had loosened her hair from its tight bun. A military interface, projecting the visuals in front of her person onto the inside of the plate before her eye; displaying coordinates, time, terrain, and vitals against the metal.

[Name] advances to the massive doorway and enters, her gait becomes even and professional. Tall marble pillars line the long room, each seeming more imposing than the last. Elaborate stained glass windows depict scenes of great galactic conquests and brazen emblems of the Imperial seal. At the center of the room is an elaborate throne, decorated in ornate patterns of gold and a soft velvet blue cushion for the nobility who claims it.

Currently, that would be Emperor Jarvan the Fourth himself. Donned in thick golden armor to display his status, holding proudly a heavy lance at his side, he sits attentively on his seat. Regardless of the time, she asked for his audience and he graciously accepted.

As she approaches the throne, her right hand finds its way over her heart and [Name] drops to her right knee. Lowering her head in respect, she glances upward in acknowledgment of the sovereign before her. Receiving it in the form of a curt nod and a gesture of his hand to rise, he smiles kindly, his blue eyes gleaming behind his helmet, “Ah! Admiral [Name]. What brings you before me this early in the morning?”

“My Emperor, I have come to report that the  _ Gentle Reminder  _ has disappeared from radar and that the  _ Fractal Shear  _ has stopped responding. For an unknown reason, the two occupied the same space. Shortly after the arrival of the  _ Shear,  _ we got reading of a small interceptor disembarking from her carrier bay. Based on the positioning of both warships, they were not in conflict.” She reports, “This occurred somewhere beyond the Raen Cluster, and we think that the destination was the outerworld planet of Ionan.”

“Was there any sign of a skirmish? Any at all?” He questions immediately, leaning forward on his throne inquisitively. Of course his first concern would be that of unnecessary bloodshed, after all, the Emperor was a good and kind ruler.

“We found initial traces of the Syndicate entering the slingspace, but almost immediately after, our transmissions went down briefly. After they came back up, the  _ Gentle Reminder  _ had disappeared and the  _ Fractal Shear  _ ceased responding. The Syndicate ships were also nowhere to be found.”

“Organize your squadron as a small search and rescue party. Set out for Ionan and find out anything you can. Report directly to me, and share no details of the experience with anyone until I, and I alone, give you permission to discuss this mission openly. Is that understood?” He orders, leaning forward as he presses emphasis on the discretion of this task.

“With all due respect, sir,” She pauses, unsure if it is right for her to speak out or not, “I am unsure if I'm the most capable for this mission. Search and rescue missions have never been my strongest ability. Wouldn't Ordinal Garen prove more adept?”

“Sending an Ordinal to fetch an Ordinal would cause too much suspicion. Garen can't walk outside the palace without attracting attention. Sending an Admiral to run an errand? While it's below your pay grade, it's much less obvious. Concerning the pay grade, anyone appropriate is less than capable,” He explains while making slightly annoyed gestures with his hands. Then he stops and nods at her, “Now, go. Waste no more time.”

“Yes, my Emperor,” [Name]'s arms snap to her sides in salute. She exits the room in an orderly fashion, displaying grace in all her movements. Only after [Name] is completely certain she is out of hearing and viewing distance of the throne room does she begin to sprint down the corridors, only slowing her pace to catch her breath when she reaches an open chamber that brings her to a beautiful courtyard.

Pale green vines wrap around trellises that support a variety of climbing plants, several of which bloom in the silver moonlight. A couple trees dot the landscape, their leaves a variety of shapes and colors that shuffle softly in the gentle wind that disturbs the otherwise still scenery. Thoughtfully, [Name] crosses through the garden, debating how to handle the likely delicate situation she brought before the Emperor. Huffing in slight annoyance with herself, she decides on what allies she considers fitting for the mission.

At that point, she presses two fingers against the side of her interface, directing a call to who she considers the most capable and trustworthy underlings she has.

“Captain Syril and lieutenants Lys, Udeen, Proj,” [Name] announces, pulling up details on the team, all of which are lieutenants that had worked under her in previous situations. “Fleet Bay, 0300.  _ Crimson Saber.  _ We have an assignment. Have discretion and privacy and meet me on board.”

She considers the time, and how fifteen minutes to prepare might not be enough, but then she reassesses and concludes that if they could not make this deadline, the mission ahead would certainly be inefficient.

In the close distance, a massive domed structure holds all of the docked vessels in the Captial, from the most colossal warships to even the smallest of terrain shuttles. Even at this time, lights shine through the glass ceiling of the monument like a beacon to all incoming intergalactic traffic.

After entering the edifice, [Name] navigates through the cluster of diverse ships until she comes across a familiar blood-red cruiser stationed at the front of the lot. Her fingertips trail appreciatively along the metal underbelly of the ship, tapping it gently it a few times before approaching where the entry ramp lowers. Her mind wanders off for a couple seconds.

The first time [Name] saw it, she knew immediately that it was incredibly small for a warship. Its size allowed for a decent size crew but was still manageable with very few people aboard. Normally, she took her place in the vanguard of the Locus Armada in the small cruiser. The quick and agile ship made for easy dispatch to deal with possible threats and galactic suppression of any resistance or potential uprising. And [Name] knew, even as an ensign, she wanted to command at the helm of the  _ Crimson Saber. _

[Name] presses one hand to her interface, using it to unlock the ship from the outside, then opens a panel above her head and flips a few of the switches that were concealed behind it. She pulls down on a stiff lever. A ramp lowers with the puff of pistons engaging and a light flickers on inside the ship.

[Name] ascends the slope and takes in a deep breath of the ship’s air. A little dusty, with the scent of oil and metal as pungent as ever. It smells like home to her. A couple of lamps, hammered metal with embedded rivets, still swaying from the initial vibration of the ramp lowering. Long metal beams reach from the ceiling to the sides of the ship, providing support and structure to the craft. she flicks on more switches, illuminating the entirety of the ship in black, bronze, and silver, with blue highlights here and there. As she enters the cockpit, [Name] begins warming up the engines and readying the ship for flight. A soft light blue hue illuminates the room and immediately she feels peace.

Her eyes gloss over the interior of the ship, admiring the sturdy industrial design over the lavish and sleek modern take of every other warship in the Locus Armada. She flicks on the light to the armory, checking inventory on fightgear and a vast array of weaponry ranging from blasters to swords and knives.

“Admiral [Name].”

An even tone pulls her out of her habitual preparations, and she turns on her heel to face the speaker. He is a strongly built man, also donned in the garb of an officer, with less flair and medals than [Name]'s own uniform. His dark brown hair is mostly hidden under his beret. He gives her a salute before moving his hands to his side at attention.

“Syril,” She responds, “Exactly on time. I need to go over some of the details of this mission with you before the others arrive.”

“Understood, sir,” He replies, not changing his stance in the slightest.

“At ease,” she says, returning to starting up the cruiser. “This mission is a possible search and rescue, and for the other three, this is a need to know. This task comes from the Emperor himself to find out what happened in the Raen Cluster. Two warships went down, the  _ Fractal Shear  _ and the  _ Gentle Reminder,  _ and there is possible involvement of the Syndicate. Jarvan wants us to uncover the circumstances of the disappearance. The  _ Fractal Shear  _ was determined intact and capable, but did not respond before fleeing elsewhere from slingspace.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“The acceptance of this is highly unlike you. Unless… Are you suspecting treason, sir?”

The question takes [Name] off-guard for a moment. While the thought had certainly crossed her mind, she had not dared speak it aloud. It seemed preposterous to even consider such a thing. Jarvan the IV was a great leader, who had kind and compassionate ambitions.

“Ordinal Kayn and Commander Nakuri have been loyal to the Demaxian Empire for over a decade. The aspect of treason is ridiculous and you will do well to remember that,” [Name] finally responds. She is not completely sure who she tries to convince with that, though.

 

* * *

 

 

The journey through slingspace is easy enough.  

The nauseating side effects of lightspeed travel only seem prominent in Lys, as he decided to hole himself up in one of the bathrooms for the majority of the time.

As the Raen Cluster comes into view, an orbit of planets peeks through a massive asteroid belt that otherwise protects the solar system. Beautiful binary stars circle each other at the center of the system, illuminating a variety of colors on each of the planets. Galaxies are visible from even a far distance, inspiring amazement in anyone who would behold them.

[Name] directs the ship to a vast, sandy looking planet with only a few oceans and lakes to spare, and hardly any green. Around the planet is an intense ring system of ice and rock. Carefully, she navigates through it.

Almost immediately, wreckage becomes discernible.

There certainly was a skirmish here.

The hull of the  _ Gentle Reminder  _ is blasted into fragments, and without spotting the defining designation of “-eminde-” as a whole piece, [Name] could not have been certain that it was indeed the wreckage of the ship. The remnants of the vessel drift by slowly, causing an ominous sense of dread to settle in her gut. She thinks she can determine bodies amongst the wreckage, and despite all the other horrors [Name] had been through during her military career, she cannot bear to watch as former comrades in arms orbit lifelessly by.

Quickly, the squadron of four gathers around [Name] in the cockpit as she nears her destination, the ship now coasting evenly in autopilot.

“What… What happened here?” Proj breaks the silence, her mouth agape at the sight.

“This is a search and rescue mission. This is what we’re here for,” [Name] replies after a moment, avoiding the suspicion nagging at the back of her mind. She takes control and directs the  _ Crimson Saber  _ to enter orbit. The cruiser rumbles subtly, rocking unevenly as it breaks into the atmosphere and prepares to land.

 

* * *

  
  


The landing is smoother than [Name] had initially thought it would be, and she immediately recollects herself to exit the ship. She begins shutting down the power of the ship and collecting some necessary utilities to intrude on the outerworld planet. [Name] silently hopes that the mission will be over quickly and that everything would have a reasonable explanation.

She glances over her squadron, “We’re to interview any life forms on the planet. Our last communication with the  _ Gentle Reminder  _ informed us that they stopped here chasing a group of Templars and their believers from Kybol. We might be able to find inhabitants or witnesses here.”

“You heard the Admiral,” Syril barks, “Suit up and prepare for departure!”

An immediate shuffling of feet ensues, followed by the noisy racket of soldiers equipping their fightgear. Syril approaches [Name], standing at attention, waiting for her to address him.

Blasters and breastplates in white and blue line the floor and the benches in the armory.

“Captain,” [Name] acknowledges, leaving the cockpit, motioning for Syril to follow her. "What can I do for you?"

"This planet is mostly uninhabited. I had Proj scan for lifeforms prior to landing, and we only found a few small colonies of Ionans in the vicinity. There is another thing you should be made aware of, sir," He pauses, "This place is a hotspot for Templars and Ora dumps. At least, that's what I gathered from Nakuri's last transmissions with Imperial Intelligence."

"Who else aboard knows about the Templars here and the presence of Ora?" [Name] asks, eyes narrowing with concern.

"No one but you and me, sir. Proj didn't hear that detail," He replies.

"See that it stays that way. For the squadron, everything is a need to know," She orders, grabbing her own decorated fightgear and debating between a few weapons.

[Name] settles for a simple combat knife which she fastens to the small of her back and a thin rapier, made from some of the strongest metals of the known galaxy, to rest at her left hip when not in use. For her right hip, [Name] takes a small chrome photann pistol, regulated to each military officer. She joins her crew, standing in front of them to address them.

"We will use as peaceful tactics as we can. We want information, not bloodshed. However, if they are unwilling to cooperate, I will give the command to use more direct means of getting answers. If any of you issue brute force without my say so, consider it an act of disobedience that will resort in punishment," [Name] declares, using the silver interface over her eye to lower the ramp and prepare to lock down the ship. "If you find anything, report to me and to Syril immediately."

[Name] takes the first step off of the cruiser, cautiously testing the loose ground beneath her feet.

A cloud of ochre dust is produced as her foot comes into contact with the particles of— what she assumes to be sand— beneath her feet. [Name] scans the horizon, taking particular note of a mesa and what looks to be a cave system in a relatively close distance. The sky is a lavender hue that fades into a pale azure, indicating the rise of the two suns over the horizon. Several airborne faunae dot the skyline elegantly as they pass over the suns and curly succulent plants color the desert. The sunlight glares furiously, casting illusions of spurious water pools upon the scorched ground.

“Proj, the lifeforms you picked up on earlier,” [Name] inquires, “Do you have coordinates?”

“There were two in the mesa ahead, sir,” She replies, pointing at the plateau [Name] noticed just before, “And what seemed to be a small village to the northeast.”

“Two? Just by themselves?” [Name] returns, watching as she nods, “We’ll start there. Two people wandering the desert doesn’t seem right...” She trails off as she considers the possible circumstances to explain the unusual situation.

[Name] shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts and begin moving with her squadron towards the butte.

She internally curses about the sand on the planet, finding that whenever the wind picks up, it seems to scratch against her exposed skin and slide between the cracks in her fightgear. Though, [Name] is grateful for the silver plate that covers one of her eyes, enabling vision with little mind for the grains of sharp sand that would otherwise make it hard to see. Her left eye does not feel as appreciative.

As [Name] reaches the entrance to the caves, she peers over her shoulder to confirm that no one had fallen behind. Ahead, the sight is horrific.

Just beyond the mesa is a field of wreckage from several warships. Still burning shrapnel and sharpened chunks of debris scatter the sandy terrain. Laced intermittently are corpses wrapped in either the navy colors of the  Demaxian Empire or the red-orange banner of the Syndicate. The sun catches on pools of blood and oil, causing them to glint like rubies and onyx.

A sharp intake of breath is audible behind [Name]. She ignores it, choosing to instead focus on the mission she was sent for. After all, it is not possible to get answers from a dead body.

“Proj,” [Name] says, the tone of her voice lacking any empathy toward the dead, “Are the life forms in the field ahead, or elsewhere?”

“In the cave, sir,” She responds immediately, her eyes snapping away from the boneyard and toward the caves to [Name]’s side.

[Name] approaches it slowly, a slight shiver down her spine as the vivid scene of the crash site replays in her mind. The cave has no light, no cracks in the surface to give any indication of its extent. The sense of dread builds further into her gut.

[Name] taps the side of her interface and suddenly the cave is illuminated with a soft light, revealing jagged walls and smooth floors, indicating that water had once paved the way through the rock. She cannot quite see how deep the cave goes but notes that it branches off into three different chambers.

[Name] immediately notices the echo; footsteps shuffling, pacing, in a manner that seems to scream of distress. Hushed voices bounce along the walls, carrying mostly unintelligible whispers to her ears. Her right hand rests on the pistol fastened to her hip in anticipation for a possible fight.

Behind her, [Name] knowingly expects her unit to follow her into the depths.

Hesitantly, she calls out. “I am Admiral [Name] from the Demaxian Empire. I was sent to find out why two of our ships ceased to respond. Please, could you explain to me what transpired here?”

The voices stop immediately. More footsteps, this time direct and moving towards [Name]. Her hand tightens on the grip of her pistol, ready to hold in case of an attack.

A young, soft-featured face appears from around a corner, preceded by the limping figure of an elderly man. The youth wears seemingly impoverished clothing, as if from a destitute upbringing. A patchwork shirt made of rags covers her torso, and torn leggings cover her legs. Mud and dirt paint her face. Her maroon hair is plaited in the back. The elder has a prosthetic leg that looks to be made of a single solid piece of stiff wood, and his attire is rather luxurious. A colorful tunic in an array of pastels reaches just past his knees, and layers of tassels and scarves are draped over his neck and shoulders. His baby blue eyes look kind and soft, much in contrast to the spooked and bright ones of the adolescent.

“You people have no more business here,” Her voice is strained, and [Name] can tell that she is shaking as she speaks.

The elder rests his hand on her head gently, as if telling her to be silent, “Admiral. There has been enough bloodshed here. Can we have your word that there will be no more?”

[Name] nods without hesitation, “For the duration of my stay here, myself and my squadron will not spill any more blood.”

“That’s as good as we’ll get, I suppose,” He sighs, obviously disapproving of her vague answer. “A Demaxian commander, I believe the Ordinal called him Nakuri, followed my people and me to this planet after accusations of illegal bio-hacking with Ora and contact with the Templars. While the latter was once accurate, it no longer held true after we fled to Kybol.

“Regardless. There was a sinister and powerful source in these tunnels,” He eyes [Name] warily, seeming to gauge her reaction as he slowly decides what details to include. “It corrupted all who heard it. Turned them against each other. At the end of it all, the only one left standing was your Ordinal. The Commander and his men set an ambush where all of us were being held, prisoner.

“That… That  _ thing  _ in the ground called out, and every single man and women that held a weapon tried to take it. There was so much noise; the screams, cries, yells of pain. It was gruesome. Then, the Ordinal rounded up my people and escorted them aboard that dreadful warship.”

“So, according to you, Commander Nakuri did indeed start a mutiny?” [Name] inquires, her brows furrowing at the thought. She catches his gaze with slight intimidation on her own. “Not to mention that somehow you escaped.”

“It’s not so simple, Admiral. The presence in the ground here corrupted the troops,” The elder replies. “And your Ordinal became its host. You should have greater concerns than the dead that lie here or how two crippled fugitives eluded captivity.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” [Name] says, truly grateful for the ease of which she received the information. “We’ll leave you and your people be. When I report to the Emperor, I’ll tell him that the Commander had become crazed and annihilated anyone aware of the incident. That should keep anyone else from coming for a while.”

“That would be appreciated. It’s comforting to know that not everyone in the hierarchy is corrupted,” He responds, taking the child by her hand and leading her past [Name] and out of the cave. He seems to disappear like an illusion when the sunlight brushes him, the sand, too, swallowing him up in its dominion.

Syril turns his attention to his superior. “Admiral [Name], sir, are you really going to let them live? Activities concerning Templars and Ora under the name of Jarvan the Fourth is considered a capital offense…”

“We are not here to deal with such issues. We have a mission, and I do believe what the man said,” [Name] reminds him.

“Sir,” Udeen speaks up, his voice irritated with his own frustration. “Sorry to interrupt, but the  _ Crimson Saber  _ is receiving a transmission. My relays are stalled, and I can’t pick it up from this cave.”

[Name] sighs. “It’s likely Jarvan. He probably wants an information update.”

“What do you plan on saying to him, sir?” Syril inquires. “While I, too, believe what the old man said, I can’t help but feel that he didn’t know the full story, himself.”

“I’ll tell him what we learned is in speculation, but that Commander Nakuri was under the influence of a dark source and started a mutiny against Ordinal Kayn,” She answers honestly, “But that Ordinal Kayn may too be swayed by the same force.”

“Sir—” This comes from Lys, but [Name] no longer feels in the mood to clarify herself. Her gut tells her that she is missing some very important element in the scheme of things.

“That’s enough,” [Name] interrupts. “We’re returning to the ship immediately.”

 

* * *

 

[Name] could not have had better timing.

Promptly after the  _ Crimson Saber  _ takes to the stars, the ship’s sensors pick up on a sandstorm occurring planetside. Fate seemed to really be reeling her in for something today.

[Name] had finished deciding on her report to Jarvan almost as soon as she entered the ship and departed Ionan. She would tell him exactly the results of the start of her expedition. Above all else, [Name] is loyal to the Emperor.

“Udeen,” [Name] orders, stepping away from the console of the ship and allowing her to glide freely through the cosmos for a while. “The transmission?”

“Patching it through now, sir. Keep in mind that it’s a recorded message and not a live feed, sir,” Her subordinate says. Now that he is out of his fightgear, she notes that his figure is bulky, much like Syril. Then she remembers that the two are indeed related, the captain being four years older than Udeen. He undeniably looks like a younger version.

The location of the transmission is from the Capital, making her force down the sickening feeling in her gut. Again, she tries to convince herself that the cause is the tragedy that arose on Ionan.

The first things that come through are static voices. One [Name] recognizes to be Emperor Jarvan the Fourth himself, the other she has not heard directly in a few years. That one belonging to the Ordinal she has been considering suspicious since she began this mission.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is more of an introductory chapter, but I want to make sure I don't mess up how I want the characters to be portrayed. I also don't want to throw my audience into the sea without letting them first test the waters. Also, this was originally in the second person before I changed it to third, so if you find any grammar mistakes, please let me know! 
> 
> I will update when I can, but college is my priority and it will remain to be that way.  
> Thank you for understanding.


End file.
